Column: Kinston man helps New Yorker adapt to southern life

Today, ladies and germs, we're going to talk about a potentially terrifying situation that ended up causing hysterical laughter.

The story you're about to hear is true. To protect his identity, Russ Tamblyn's name has been changed to Connie Swail. My friend Jon Hughes will be referred to as Jon Hughes.

Jon Hughes owns/operates East Carolina Music and Video in Greenville. Located on 2800 East Tenth Street, Jon's store is an oasis residing in a strip mall. Besides every movie known to man and primate, East Coast boasts the best collection of music this side of the Triangle.

Unlike many of the record stores in the Triangle, you don't have to deal with the militant vegan behind the counter who thinks the last Daft Punk album is the most important sound recording since Thomas Edison recorded some nursery rhymes onto a spool of tin foil in 1878.

To any vegans or Daft Punk fans that can't take a joke, please know that some of my best friends are vegans who listen to slightly-above-average techno music. One day I'll catch them off guard and slide them a hamburger with a side of Antibalas, but until then I think it's best that we all just try to get along.

About two years ago, a guy started coming into Hughes' store reeking of flop sweat and Old Milwaukee. At first the guy would flip through the vinyl albums and pretend he was shopping, but after a few weeks he stopped pretending. The guy was in the store for the air conditioning and the bathroom. Also, he took a bit of a shine to the life-size cardboard Katy Perry display that one jokester of an employee put near the door just to irk Hughes.

Hughes didn't like the type of person the Katy Perry cut-out was attracting, so he let Old Milwaukee have it as long as he promised to never ever tell him what he planned to do with it. Word is the weirdo was going to marry the Katy Perry cardboard cut-out until he found out the real Katy Perry had been married to Russell Brand.

Being a decent sort, Hughes usually let the guy hang around for a while if he wasn't bothering any customers. Then, as often happens, the guy took Hughes generosity and ran into traffic with it.

Around 12:15 p.m. on a Thursday, the man who would be Bud Weiser walked into the store with a bag of Chinese food. As anyone who loves Chinese food knows, the aromas it projects are not subtle. Like any good Italian or soul food, this is the type of food that makes it's presence known. It's boldness is what has made it a hit for thousands of years. I think people who still eat with the sticks are showing off a bit, but I digress.

It's important that I interject here to inform you that Hughes has also been moonlighting as a professional bouncer going on 20 years. I get a little jumpy at the library, so suffice it to say I've never visited any of the places where he works security, but I've enjoyed many of the stories as relayed to me after the fact, several miles away at a secure location.

Although I know him as the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back if you were in need, the first impression you get from Hughes is that he's the type of guy who would/could hit you so hard your grandchildren would feel it. I've heard stories of boisterous ECU football players being chilled right down to mildly chatting by Hughes merely placing his hand on their shoulder and asking if everything was okay.

To recap, we've got Hughes — a sweetheart of a guy who if you didn't know him could intimidate the average person back into the womb — and an eternally buzzed miscreant who's decided to walk into Hughes store with a bag of Chinese food.

As it was relayed to me by Hughes and one of his employees two days later, the vagrant was politely asked to take the food out of the store. The initial request was ignored, causing Hughes to ramp up his efforts and demand that the guy leave the store. This request was also ignored.

Just as Hughes was about to come from behind the counter to escort the guy out, the guy plops his Chinese food down beside the cash register and starts eating it, and not in a way that would please Emily Post.

Even though the security video has no audio, I swear you can still hear the guy slurping as if he was trying to pull up a strand of spaghetti from the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Even Bob Crane would have bristled.

Just as Hughes got up from his chair to run the guy out, the guy produces a knife and lays it on the counter and goes on eating his food.

"What's with the knife?" Hughes asked.

"That's how we settle arguments in New York," the guy said as he continued to inhale his food.

"Man, that's a big knife," Hughes said. "I bet it's sharp too."

"You know that's right," the guy said while winking at Hughes.

"You know, we have a lot of families come in here with their kids. I'd appreciate it if you'd put that knife away," Hughes said as he calmly reached for his 40 caliber Ruger pistol.

"I ain't going nowhere 'till I finish my food," the guy said.

"Okay, that's fine," Hughes said as he lifted his pistol with a barrel long enough to hang the Walton's laundry on from behind the counter. "I just wanted to show you how we handle knife fights in North Carolina."

And with that, the guy placed his food and knife into his coat pocket and nearly broke his noise mistaking the glass window pane beside the door for the actual door. The guy hit the one-inch thick glass so hard the fire alarm went off.

For whatever reason, the guy with the Chinese food never came back to Hughes' store.

The Katy Perry cardboard-cutout is dating a frail, broth-only guy who works at a record store in Durham. I hear the relationship is in trouble because the broth-dude can't keep up with the active lifestyle of the cardboard cutout.

Hughes was last seen turning a young college student onto the music of Warren Haynes, Muddy Waters and Unknown Mortal Orchestra.

Me, well I'm just a young kid with a dream of making a few people spit up their coffee and possibly have to change their shirt, blouse or both before going to work. I've recently cashed in my 401-K and invested heavily in a local dry cleaning business and we could really use the foot traffic.

Jon Dawson's columns appear every Tuesday and Thursday in The Free Press. Contact Jon at 252-559-1092 or jon.dawson@kinston.com .